


Six Stiches and a Side of Bacon

by missred



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Injury, M/M, Sickfic, Van Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 23:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9351026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missred/pseuds/missred
Summary: Brendon's having a rough day. Ryan is just concerned with keeping him from dropping dead in a Denny's parking lot.





	

Brendon rolls over at 6:32 A.M on Saturday morning and drags himself out of bed to check the window. Bed is technically the back row of seats of what Jon affectionately dubbed “the death van” after the brakes gave out on the freeway and they spent several minutes coasting 80 miles an hour towards imminent doom and tragically short lives. The van is missing the cover for the shift stick, and several bits of metal poke out under the steering wheel. The window needs checking because it gets stuck when it’s hot like this and if they can’t get it closed in the morning it’s a waste to turn on the AC. And Brendon _needs_ there to be AC today. He doesn’t usually like driving, not only because of the near-death incident, but also because it’s hard to focus on highways, where the road is one long stretch of sameness and you can’t tell how fast everything is going. But he wants to get on the road today, because driving means AC, and no amount of desert heat could have prepared him for the humid hellscape that is Florida.  Something about the thick air makes him queasy , and he hasn’t slept all night, hovering on the edge of nauseated and overly warm. They have to be in Atlanta tonight and Brendon just wants the drive over with. He clambers into the front seat and cranks the ignition, followed quickly by the AC. Spencer groans when the car jerks out of the parking lot they’d been sleeping in, but his eyes never open, and Jon and Ryan may as well be dead. It’s quiet and the sun is rising and Brendon can enjoy the driving thing, right this moment.

An hour later, Ryan maneuvers himself into the passenger seat a drops his head against the  window. Brendon drives until his eyes start to droop and Spencer finally wakes up and declares he needs the first available pancakes. They pull off at the next Denny’s they see.

At 8: 53, Brendon pulls into a mostly empty lot and parks the car. At 8:54 he reaches to put the parking brake on and pulls back a bloody hand. He looks at for a minute, not sure who’s blood it is or how it could have gotten in the car, until his ears stop whooshing and he hears Ryan, who’s muttering “fuck, fuck, fuck.” The he feels it. And oh, that’s his blood, and it’s coming out of his hand and smeared a little bit under the steering wheel, where something probably essential but also sharp as fuck just impaled his hand. And it _hurts_. Brendon opens the car door and vomits into gravel.

He’s not really paying attention after that. To be fair the blood coming out of his hand is deeply distracting. Somehow Ryan and Jon get him out of the car without stepping in his own puke. Ryan has got his arm wrapped tightly around Brendon’s waist but he doesn’t complain because he’s not sure where they’re going anyways, and it’s a hell of a lot easier to let Ryan steer. Spencer has pressed a shirt into his hand and is looking pale and scared and saying shit about pressure. He grabs Brendon’s hand when Brendon doesn’t and squeezes the t-shirt over all of it.

“That’s your favorite shirt.” Brendon says, numbly, looking at Ryan.

He knows that he hurt his hand and it’s probably fine, but he doesn’t know why his blood has to get all over Ryan’s favorite shirt.

Ryan looks at him funny and keeps half dragging him.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s probably fine.” Brendon says. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He’s not really sure how true that is, but everyone looks worried, including Jon, and he can’t handle this situation if Jon is freaking out.

They still end up going to Denny’s, to ask if they have a first aid kit. The manager takes one look at them tells them to get back in their car. She follows them out and has them trail her 15 minutes to an urgent care center. When they pull up she gives them one more pitying look and asks them all “Be safe, please, kids.”

Brendon feels clammy and nauseated and stupid, because he’s not a kid and because he knew about the pokey metal bits under the wheel and because it’s still hot and he might have to puke again. They don’t wait all in the urgent care. Brendon’s glad, because he’s definitely feeling dizzy, and he _definitely_ needs to puke again. He does, one more time sitting on on the exam table while the doctor numbs his hand. Something about that was worse than the hurting part. It throws him off and he’s already off, today is going pretty terribly and the room is wavering and when he pukes into a pink basin, Ryan curses sharply.

“Is that the pain?” Ryan asks, turning demandingly to the doctor. Spencer tries to shush him but Ryan isn’t having it.

“Could be.” The woman stitching his hand, to her credit, doesn’t seem phased by Ryan, which is kind of a feat in itself, in Brendon’s opinion.

“I’m guessing he’s got a virus though.” She continues calmly. “Once I’ve got you all patched up I’d like to take a look at your vitals.” She says, speaking easily to Brendon, without looking up at Ryan.  
Brendon nods and tries not to let the feeling in his stomach overwhelm him. God, this _sucks_.

It takes six stitches to close his hand up. Brendon guesses he’ll get a pretty cool looking scar out of it, stretched across his left palm. The doctor says he’s got a low-grade fever and some kind of flu. Brendon doesn’t really care what it is, as long as it’ll go away soon. He doesn’t feel as bad after the third round of puking, but by then there’s really nothing left to come up. She warns him to stay hydrated and get a lot of rest and he doesn’t tell her that he’s sleeping in a van and planning on playing a show a few states over tonight.

Everything is fine when they shuffle out of the urgent care and load into the van. Brendon’s hand is still numb and he feels mostly better, if still tired and a little shaky. They drive back to the Denny’s because none of them have eaten since yesterday and at this point no one is sure when the next rest stop will be. The manager is glad to see them back, she gives them a free round of bacon that Ryan won’t let Brendon eat because “you’ll probably puke it back up.” Plain pancakes are deemed acceptable, and orange juice, which is a little unfair because everyone else is downing coffee like they’re dying. Ryan swats his good hand when he tries and steal a sip.

“You heard the doctor! Drink your OJ. Coffee’s gonna make you dehydrated and then you’ll pass out or something and I’m not taking you back to the hospital I will leave you here in this Denny’s parking lot to _die_.”

“You wouldn’t.” Brendon pouts. “I’m the lovable one. People love me. Case in point, free bacon.” He snags a piece before Ryan can stop him and Ryan looks scandalized. Spencer snickers.

“I _would_ . Because I _told you so._ And that lady just feels bad for you because you’re an idiot and about as lovable as a feral cat."

Brendon beams.

“Good thing you’re a cat person then.”

Ryan rolls his eyes so hard Brendon is briefly worried they’re going to get stuck in the back of his head.

“You’re incorrigible.”

“That’s cute Ryan, you should put that in a song.” Brendon teases.

“I’ll put you in a song if you don’t shut it.” Ryan threatens, going a little pink in his ears.

Spencer glances up from his pancakes and then decides, apparently, to get very interested in the syrup pot.

Brendon grins, and it’s got that edge to it that usually precedes a terrible, terrible idea, and lot of Ryan yelling.

“Maybe you should.”

“Tell you what,” Ryan huffs, “you make a real effort not to die this tour, and I’ll put you in the next album.”

Brendon sticks his tongue out and savors the annoyed look on Ryan’s face.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written this pairing and I'm terrible at relationship stuff. Prompt asked for sick/hurt Brendon and overprotective Ryan. Hope this was close enough!


End file.
